


If You Want My Future, Forget My Past

by Arualiaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Spice Girls References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arualiaa/pseuds/Arualiaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is going to get gifts for Harry, even if he has to soldier on through obnoxious muggles to get them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Want My Future, Forget My Past

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Secret Santa gift for Ivana from the HarryMort Facebook group, hope you enjoy it and have a merry Christmas! Her request was:
> 
> "Harry/Tom  
> Fluff  
> ALLLL THE FLUFF  
> Just make it really cute  
> and preferably Christmassy  
> :D"

Tom couldn't believe he was doing this. Heaving out a long-suffering sigh, he buttoned the first button of his winter coat, which he’d initially left undone. Burying his nose into the wooly fabric, he glared at the people around him, shopping without a care.

He should have brought a scarf. The heating charm in his coat wasn't quite enough, but he couldn't strengthen it right now. Not in front of muggles.

Because he was at a muggle record shop. And he hated, _hated_ that fact.

Do it for him, was his constant mantra. Think about his gorgeous smile, his delighted face when he sees it. Think about his happiness.

Avoiding the large crowd that fought over copies of some horrid teen sensation group (who were those ‘Spicy Girls’, anyway?) he made his way to his intended target. A bundle of two compact disks, sporting a crest and elegant letters. ‘ _Special Christmas offer!_ ’ read a tag next to it.

He did not care for the money. Grabbing the small box, he returned to the counter.

-

“Sir, sir! A pound for a Christmas carol?”

Tom turned around, reminded of a different place, at a different time. Orphans dressed in their only set of winter clothes, noses frozen and eyes weary.

“No.”

These children looked well-off. Friends trying to make a few pounds to buy sweets, most likely. Their pouts had little effect on him. “Why not? Don't you like Christmas, sir? Everyone likes Christmas!”

He was tempted to say ‘no’ again, but that would be a lie. He knew someone who had taught him how to appreciate the once infuriating holiday, relish every second of it. As long as it was by his side, Tom had begun to find pleasure in the little things of life.

He thought about his malachite eyes and bright smile as he wordlessly inserted a pound in the children’s piggy bank.

And promptly left in outrage, because their idea of a Christmas carol started with ‘ _Yooo I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want, so tell me what you want, what you really really want…_ ’

-

“Buying for the kids, sir?”

Tom gave the shop clerk a very unimpressed stare. “No.”

“Are you… going to eat all this by yourself? I don't mean to judge, but-“

“Then do not. Goodbye.”

He thought about his adorable sweet tooth when he picked up the shopping bags with multiple boxes in them, and discreetly cast a lightweight charm.

Yes, much better.

-

And suddenly, it was the 25th, and he did not have to fantasize anymore. Tom woke up early, pressing a careful kiss on his lover’s bare shoulder – he had given him his first present last night. A very enjoyable one, at that – and left the bed taking care to not wake him.

A smile made its way to his lips as he allowed excitement to flood him, and he rushed to get dressed in a simple button-up shirt, trousers and a loose outer robe. He was going to make sure that this morning would be perfect.

-

Harry stirred when a pair of familiar lips kissed his slack mouth sweetly, and he could not help a sleepy grin.

“Merry Christmas,” the former Dark Lord breathed in his ear, before pressing more kisses down his neck. Harry shivered in pleasure, all grogginess clearing from his mind as a giggle bubbled from his throat.

"M'rning, Tom…” He murmured lazily, stretching his limbs like a contented cat. The man in question looked at his naked body appreciatively, before pulling away and gesturing at the bedside table.

“I made us both breakfast,” he explained as Harry put on his underwear and a pair of pyjama bottoms. He looked so earnest, meticulous as always, and he could almost see the cogs turning in Tom’s mind and checking off points from a list of what was supposed to be the perfect Christmas, not aware of the fact that one of the enjoyable things about holidays was spontaneity and relaxation. But still, he tried.

And Harry found it terribly endearing. “You’re adorable,” he commented, kissing his lover’s cheek and picking up a fork.

“I am not,” was the grumbled reply.

- 

Downstairs, the Christmas tree was full of presents underneath, alongside some at the windowsill which had come via owl. Harry and Tom sat by the fireplace, beginning to unwrap their first present.

“A wand holster?” The younger wizard inquired, amused.

"I noticed you still have the bad habit to store your wand in your pocket. You will blast your own leg off one of these days…” Tom shook his head in slight exasperation, and carefully pulled off the remaining tape from his box-sized present. Rich laughter escaped his lips when he found out what was inside.

A plain white mug, with a handpainted text on it: ‘ _N°1 Dark Lord_ ’.

“To compensate for Helga Hufflepuff’s being destroyed in the absorption ritual,” Harry muttered a little sheepishly. “And also, to give you back a little of your honour and reputation, or something.”

“I shall consider my dignity restored,” Tom said, with a little flourish and mock solemnity. “Go on, open the next one. I will wait.”

Harry obliged, only to be faced with a box with a very familiar crest on it. It was not Hogwarts’, however.

“Queen’s Greatest Hits I and II… Tom, you… you remembered?” He looked at his lover with an unbelievably fond expression, close to tears.

“Of course I did.”

He had grown up with those songs. Harry had savaged a radio from the trash as a child, and tuned into music stations while he did chores, and allowed himself the little pleasure of singing along when he was working on the garden and the Dursleys couldn't hear him. During the endless hours in his cupboard, he hummed songs by Queen, Rick Astley, and Wind Earth & Fire. He listened to them with the volume dial all the way to the left, listening to the soft murmur of music and the news right next to his ear. That radio, those songs, had helped him not lose his sanity when locked inside his personal prison.

He had only mentioned that in passing once, when Tom caught him singing ‘Bicycle Race’ on the shower, in the middle of a particularly embarrassing one-man interpretation of the chorusing voices repeating the word ‘bicycle’ over and over. From that day on, not only did Tom not raise his eyebrow at his bathroom sonatas, he often joined in impromptu duets.

Leave it to Tom to learn the lyrics of muggle music he probably did not even like… that brought him to another subject.

“Tom, did you really go to a muggle shop to buy these?”

His annoyed expression was all the answers Harry needed. “Not only for this. Look at those boxes stacked together.”

Curiously, he tore the paper from one, and his eyes widened. It was a television-sized box, full of Mars bars.

And there were three of them.

"That’s... that's enough to feed an entire army. Did you buy those in a bulk? That's industrial size!” His tone was incredulous. Tom shifted uncomfortably, until he saw Harry’s awestruck face. “…Tom? I love you. You know that, right?”

Letting out a breathy chuckle of relief, he kissed the younger wizard. “Yes, I know.”

-

Several presents later, Harry stood up.

“Tom, wait here for a second. I wanted to give you a special gift I couldn't wrap, but I hope you will like it.”

The older wizard noticed how he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, practically bouncing in excitement. “Alright,” he agreed reassuringly, and the seventeen year old bolted to the stairs.

When he came back, he was holding a medium-sized box, and looking very much giddy. “The cup is not the only gift related to last year. It’s been a year since you absorbed the horcruxes and I know you’re trying to hide it, but… I can tell you’re still upset.”

Tom froze. How had he noticed? Yes, during the ritual last year he absorbed his horcruxes, completely destroying their vessel as a consequence he had not foreseen. Harry’s soul and magic had viciously latched on to the shard they held, thus saving his life, but someone else had not been so lucky.

“I know nothing will replace her,” Harry continued. …oh. He could see where this was leading, it couldn’t be- “She was your familiar, and your friend. But I found a little one who wanted to be your friend, too.”

The former Dark Lord lifted the box’s cover, and found a small snake with a red ribbon wrapped around its white body, near its head. It rushed to say hello in an excited little burst, its voice clearly childish. And very much male.

Tom felt a warmth spread through his chest, and a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. _“Hello, little hatchling. Your name shall be Quetzalcoatl, like the Aztec winged serpent.”_

 _“Yes, a winged serpent… just like you.”_ Harry’s hissy laughter echoed around the living room. _“Oh, come on, don’t give me that look, you know you’re a huge Ravenclaw! You should have seen your face every time you opened a present and it was a book…”_

_“Master likes books? I also like books! They are nice to bask on! The human at the glass place liked to decorate my den with books because I like to sleep on them, and the other humans who looked at me cooed and smiled. So I guess books make humans smile, and that is also another reason why I like books!”_

“…I can already tell he will be a handful,” Tom murmured in English. Harry smiled, as they sat again by the fireplace and listened to Quetzal’s rambling.

-

Two of the presents by the windowsill turned out to be Weasley sweaters. Harry got his usual emerald green one, and nearly doubled over laughing when he found out that Tom’s matching sweater read ‘YKW’ at the front in big, golden letters. His face was priceless, but he did not throw the garment to the hearth, so there was that.

“Mrs. Weasley is inviting us over for Christmas dinner,” Harry announced, waving around the letter that came with the package.

“I will give her credit for her guts, but I am not attending.”

Ah, there he was again. “Tom…”

“Harry.”  
  
“Toooooom…” he pouted, looking at him in the eye. The man in question busied himself petting his new snake, pretending to ignore him.

“If you wanna be my lover you gotta get with my friends, Tom.”

Over Harry’s hysterical laughter, a very indignant former Dark Lord grumbled about ‘those Merlin-damned Spiced Girls’.


End file.
